Fallout 1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Kick in the Head

War. War never changes. When atomic fire consumed the earth, those who survived did so in great, underground vaults. When they opened, their inhabitants set out across ruins of the old world to build new societies, establish new villages, and form new tribes. As decades passed, what had been the American southwest united beneath the flag of the New California Republic, dedicated to old world values, democracy and the rule of law.

As the Republic grew, so did its needs. Scouts spread east, seeking territory and wealth, in the dry and merciless expanse of the Mojave Desert. They returned with tales of a city untouched by the warheads that had scorched the rest of the world and a great wall spanning the Colorado River. The NCR mobilized its army and sent it east to occupy the Hoover Dam and restore it to working condition. But across the Colorado, another society had arisen under a different flag. A vast army of slaves, forged in the conquest of 86 tribes: Caesar's Legion. Four years have passed since the Republic held the Dam, just barely, against the Legion's onslaught. The Legion did not retreat. Across the River, they gathered strength. Campfires burned, training drums beat. Through it all, the New Vegas Strip has stayed open for business under the control of its mysterious overseer, Mr. House and his army of rehabilitated Tribals and police robots. 

It was to be a simple job. Pick up one Platinum Poker Chip and deliver to the Lucky 38 Casino. How could I have been so careless? Richard Burke thought to himself as he lay on the dusty soil in a darkened cemetery, rocks digging into his kidneys. He listened as the sound of a shovel kept stabbing into the ground beside him. His thoughts cleared for a moment, the throbbing pain in his head from the blow which had incapacitated him momentarily subsiding, allowing him to review the events preceding his current situation. He could see now how they had gotten the drop on him, coming from behind some of the barrel cacti and hitting him on the head, catching him unawares as he had contemplated what he would do with all the caps he'd get from this latest job.

He had drifted into the Mojave a few weeks ago, spending his remaining caps from the delivery he had completed in The Divide on supplies to make it to Primm. From the Mojave Express offices, he had taken this commission from Johnson Nash who had seemed almost reluctant to give him the job. Richard hadn't asked Johnson about the details, he always believed that the less he knew about the things he delivered, the better. He had taken the job, as he had taken so many others because he needed the caps. He cursed himself for his lack of attention. He had been in the Courier business a long time, he had taken other commissions and carried more important packages and he was no stranger to danger. Why, on this night, was he so preoccupied that he had failed to see that there was danger lurking in the shadows?

The gruff voice of one of his captors broke him from his thoughts and a fresh wave of pain clouded his vision as he struggled against the ropes that held him.

"You got what you were after, so pay up," the man with the deep voice said.

"You're cryin' in the rain, Pally," said another.

"Guess who's waking up over here?" said a younger voice.

Richard looked up at the three men who had ambushed him. He saw that two of them were dressed in leather and hide clothing, tribals obviously. He saw that the third man was well dressed, the checkerboard suit showing minimal wear and a slight coating of the Mojave dust. His hair was well trimmed and he was clean shaven, this man was not a Wastelander, he was some sort of businessman. Richard didn't have much time to think about these things as the man in the suit was already walking towards him.

"Would you get it over with already?" The older of the two tribals addressed the man in the suit.

Checkerboard held up a finger, silencing the man.

"Maybe Kahns kill people without lookin' them in the face, but I ain't a fink, dig?" The man in the suit held the other's gaze for a moment longer to make sure he had gotten his point across and then turned his gaze to Richard. His hands reaching into his suit, he pulled out the object he had stolen from the Courier, the Platinum Poker Chip. He waved it at Richard like a banner, signaling that he had won.

"You made your last delivery, kid", he said to Richard with an almost disappointed tone in his voice. He reached back into his jacket, putting the chip carefully away and pulled out his piece. Richard who was no stranger to guns identified it immediately as an M&A 9MM Single-Action Semi-Automatic. This one was finely detailed with pearl grips and the Woman of the Apocalypse on the side. Richard stared at it for a moment then looked up at Checkerboard's face.

The man glanced down at his pistol for a moment and then back to Richard. He barely concealed his pride when he said:

"From where you're kneeling, it must seem like an eighteen karat run of bad luck," he said ruefully. He pointed the gun directly at Richard's forehead. "Truth is, the game was rigged from the start." The last sound Richard heard was the hammer being pulled back. There was a loud bang and then all was silent.

A/N

I hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter of what I am hoping is a well received story of the events of Fallout New Vegas. I realize that this chapter was not long and I am leaving you guys salivating for more, this is my intention, lol. I love the Fallout series and all of Bethesda's games. I am really hoping you guys like reading about the events from my character's point of view. I am not writing this in any particular order, I am not going to go through the entire game noting every single quest or event, and I am certainly not going to document word-for-word all of the dialogue from the game, that would be impossible. I am also not going to add too much into the story but rather try my best to keep it on par with the rest of the Fallout universe.

Feedback is lovely, it helps we as writers know what you, the readers think of what you read. Let me know in the comments what you think and any suggestions you may have. Please bear in mind that I as a writer have feelings so please keep your comments or criticisms pleasant. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. Thanks! Do not forget to rate and review and do look forward to the next chapter!

Legal frivolities:

Fallout is licensed and owned by Bethesda, I own no part of the story except the main character which is modeled after my own playing of it. I may add a few other characters as situations warrant but I take no ownership whatsoever of the New Vegas plot, characters etc.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Rude Awakening

Slowly, light began to seep into the corners of the inky black pool that had become Richard's entire world. Dully he heard the tick of a clock and the slow whispering of a ceiling fan from deeper in the darkness. Consciousness and understanding began to slip into his thoughts.

"_The game was rigged from the start….." __**BAM**_

With a gasping inhalation of air, Richard sat up and opened his eyes. What he saw before him was inky greyness with slated light filtering through. Even this minute amount of light was enough to make Richard wince in pain.

"Hey, you're awake. How 'bout that?" Richard heard the voice of what was unmistakably a kind, elderly man. Richard raised his arms to his face to feel what it was that was obstructing his vision.

"Whoa, easy there. You've been out cold for a couple of days now. Why don't you relax for a second, try to get your bearings? Let me help you with that." He reached across and undid the bandage that was wrapped around Richard's head. Whilst doing this, the man accidentally nudged the spot on Richard's eye socket that was the cause of all the problems, causing a stab of pain to go right through his head.

"Don't rush all at once; let's start with a simple question. What is your name? Can you tell me your name?"

Richard's mind was adrift for a few moments then all at once, understanding flooded into him. "Richard. My name is Richard Burke."

The man nodded in understanding. "I'm Doc Mitchell, welcome to Goodsprings. Now, I hope you don't mind but I had to go rooting around there in your noggin to pull all the bits of lead out. I pride myself on my needlework but maybe you better take a look and see if I left anything out of place." He handed Richard a beat up, weathered looking but serviceable mirror.

Richard regarded his complexion taking careful note of the grievous wound along the right side of his right eye. It dawned on him that he was incredibly lucky to be alive and that only about one chance in a million were his odds that he'd survive such an encounter again. He also took note how the good Doc had taken it upon himself to trim Richard's hair, giving him a sort of militaristic looking cut, and shortening his deep red hair to such a minimalist length as he'd not seen in quite some time. He nodded, handing the mirror back to the Doc.

"Well, I got most of it right anyway, stuff that mattered. Okay, no sense keeping you in bed anymore, let's try to get you on your feet." The Doc took Richard's arms and pulled him up. Richard's feet touched the floor, the pads of which taking note of the rough, scratchy carpet next to the bed. He looked down at himself and saw that the Doc had cleaned him up as best he could and had given him fresh undergarments. He'd even cleaned the grit from under Richard's nails. Richard hadn't been nearly this clean in weeks, soap and fresh water being a scarcity in the Wasteland. Richard struggled to take a few tentative steps. He was only out of commission for a few days but the atrophy that had set in made his steps wavy and unsure.

"No need to rush, take your time." The Doc spoke encouragement to Richard, helping him move forward and into the next room where he helped Richard onto the sofa. "Now then, I need to make sure all your dogs are still barkin' so I'm going to ask you a series of questions and you try to answer them as best you can."

Doc Mitchell asked Richard several questions dealing with varying areas; science, math, comprehension. After those were done, he asked Richard a few word association questions and upon concluding those, he held up a few inked cards asking Richard what he saw in them. After about thirty minutes, he announced that the tests were completed and smiled at Richard.

"Son, I have to tell you, you are a highly intelligent person with a great personality and exceptional skills with weapons. I'd hate to have you as an enemy. Now that all that is out of the way, I think it's time we got you moving along." He gestured for Richard to go into the next room.

Arranged on the bed in this smaller room, Richard found a few articles of clothing, most notably among them a blue armored jumpsuit with yellow trimming, a big number: "21" on the back. He also found, under the clothing a weathered .44 Magnum Revolver, holster and a few speed loaders, he noted that the good Doc had left him some ammo as well. Richard changed into the jumpsuit and adjusted the armor of it to better hug his form. He strapped on the holster and filled the clip pouches. He took the gun into his hands and swung out the cylinder, ensuring it was loaded. He rotated it a few times to make sure it was in working condition and the faint smell of gun oil assaulted his nose. Confident that the gun was in fine condition, he slipped it into the holster and belted it down low across his right thigh. At the corner of the bed, hanging from one of the finials was a weather beaten leather bag into which Richard loaded the extra clothing. Beside the bag at the edge of the bed was a small tool kit, a first-aid kit, several Stimpacks, a tin of Mentats, a Steady and a few hypo's of Jet. Loading these into the bag, Richard left the Jet where it was, having never been a fan of using that particular Chem. Next to these essentials he saw the Doc had also left him an old combat knife. Richard checked the edge and found it razor sharp, the back side of the blade was serrated which suit him just fine. He strapped the knife to the bag so that the hilt was pointing down near Richard's left kidney so that in a clinch, he'd be able to access it fast. Adjusting the straps of the bag, Richard swung his new gunna onto his back and left the room.

The Doc was waiting for him at the end of the hall near the door. "I didn't mean to go through your stuff but we had a hard time identifying you. This letter was all that was with you." The Doc handed Richard a worn letter with the words: "Mojave Express" printed clearly at the top. The letter was his last orders directing him to deliver one Platinum Poker Chip to the Lucky 38 casino on the New Vegas Strip.

"Who rescued me?" Richard asked the Doc.

"The robot said he was out the night it happened and heard a scuffle. He followed you and the people that ambushed you to the cemetery. After they left, he dug you out and brought you to me."

"A robot?" Richard asked incredulously. "Yep, I expect you'll meet him here in town. Now I don't have much else I can do for you but I wanted you to have this," He handed Richard a bulky wrist device. "It's a Pip-Boy 3000. I grew up in one of them vaults and these were right handy. I don't get much anymore these days so I recon it'd serve you better." He showed Richard how to strap it to his left wrist and pointed out a few details on how the gadget worked.

The Pip-Boy was one of RobCo's finest inventions. It was a combination map system, information storage and personal diagnostic tool. Sitting on one's wrist it measured just about everything from the user's body and much about his surroundings including a much needed Geiger counter. The Doc also showed Richard how to use the Radio function and pointed out a few interesting radio stations from the local area as well as one or two other surprising features of the device. Richard had of course heard about VaultTech's Vault program and knew that RobCo had been a significant contributor to that program. He'd never been inside one of the abandoned Vaults but he'd heard stories on his travels about Vaults filled with hidden treasures from the long ago pre-war era and sobering tales of horrors visited upon unsuspecting prospectors.

Doc Mitchell's voice suddenly broke into Richard's thoughts. "Go see Trudy at the Goodsprings Saloon down the way a piece. She likes to meet the newcomers to town. Also, if you're a little short on caps she may have a few errands or chores you can do. She may also have more information on the hooligans what shot you up. It was good meeting you, son." With that. He opened the door and showed Richard out into the stunningly bright, sunny day.

Author's note:

Sorry this took so long, got caught up in a lot of IRL drama. As one can see from having played the game, I'm trying to keep the dialogue and interactions as close to in-game as I can without being too boring. I decided to end this chapter because it is also the end of the tutorial in the game. As you can see from Doc's comments on Richard's test, he has above average intelligence, excellent gun skills, computer skills and repair skills. This rings true with the way I actually play the game. Consequently Richard is also going to be more of the Hacking type rather than the lock picking type. His years spent wandering the Wasteland has made him learned of the various wildlife of the region. With all that said, definitely look forward to more chapters involving my wandering, gun slinging courier.


End file.

Fallout, Adventure, Sci-Fi